


Standing Ground

by PoppyAlexander



Series: Sherlock Rare Pair Ficlets [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Two Toppy Tops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...each kiss and grunt and moan an affirmation of who the top man is, here, Captain, Inspector..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Ground

Well, naturally, Greg noticed John almost from the first time he showed up at a crime scene trailing Sherlock. But then again, no; if he's honest, at first he was suspicious (anyone who would willingly go around with Sherlock must want something from him--inside information, protection from the police). So then he started turfing John, missing no opportunity to place himself between him and Sherlock because even though what Greg and Sherlock had was fumbling, short-lived, and mostly one-sided, Greg had never stopped loving Sherlock--not really, how could you stop loving someone so clearly, desperately in need of all the love he could get?--and for better or worse, he was protective of Sherlock. John would have to prove himself worthy before Greg would stand down.

So, in reality, the first time he  _really_  noticed John--his upright posture, bright eyes, dry humour, the whole bit--came later. And it was hard not to notice him when he crowded a bit closer than a bloke really ought to in public, lest people get the wrong idea, and when that tongue of his kept darting out like some weirdly threatening invitation. And his, "If you're free later, let's have a drink," wasn't really even a question to be answered, was it. Greg's reply had been reduced to a cough and a thick-fingered offer of a cigarette and a quick, "Yeah, aw'right."

The drink was a double for each of them, stood at one of those tall tables, and John's smile was friendly and open but his eyes were wolfish and sparked bright desire that put thoughts in Greg's head he'd usually reserved for a much different type of bloke--hardly blokey at all, really: slim, pretty, inevitably so young it made him feel a little ashamed--but there it was nonetheless, images in his head of something rough-and-ready, sometimes gut-laughing, sometimes growling. By the time John tossed a tip on the table for the waitress, Greg's neck was flushing hot and his fingers were itching to curl against rough denim, a stubble-covered throat, musky-smelling body hair.

Flirtation clearly over, John was muttering filthy nothings in a commanding voice only loud enough for the two of them to hear before the cab he'd flagged even slowed for them, and once inside, his hand was high on the inside of Greg's thigh, breath hot against Greg's neck spilling a torrent of confessions and guttural promises to follow them through.

They crashed into Greg's flat already tugging at lapels and belt buckles and the hems of pullovers and when their mouths collided it was inelegant, tasting of salt and whiskey and stale cigarettes. A trail of dropped shoes and house keys and illegal firearms and every minute of it felt like the verge of violence, at any next moment there could be assault and battery and bloody lips and black eyes. Neither willing to surrender to the other, they ended against the bedroom door, both on their feet, each kiss and grunt and moan an affirmation of who the top man is, here, Captain, Inspector, fingers pressed in each others' mouths nearly to the point of gagging, thick tongues licking wide, sloppy swipes against palms and when they reached between their bodies each tug and shove and pull bordered on unkind, urged on with muttered  _yeah, yeah, just there, yeah_  until their chests heaved hard against each other, mouths too dry to make words and so they growled and barked and panted until it was clear neither had bested the other, no territory was breached.

It was never tender between them.


End file.
